What Could have Been
by Princess Tiger
Summary: He really did love me after all. He was going to marry me. But, why I am left to think about what could have been? AAML oneshot.


A/N: Well I thought, in my lack of inspiration period for my chapter fic, that I would try my hand at a one-shot. I won't say anything too detailed as the summary, because I'll give the plot away. It's a little sad though…

Disclaimer: No I don't own Pokémon, although it's pretty obvious I don't really, I don't even have a job…

**~**

What Could Have Been

I had been to several funerals before, but none were quite like this. After all, she did become one of my best friends, and now she was dead. I look sadly to her mourning spouse, the man I love, and shall do for as long as I live. The day he told me was engaged to her was the worst in my life, I suppose I was fortunate that I have spent my whole life hiding my true feelings, or I'd never have managed to last the whole day. Then I helped my best friends plan their wedding for the next six months, thinking the whole time about what could have been. Even though I was happy that he was happy, I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret every time I had to decide on something, because he was nearly mine, but I didn't want to hurt her, so I rejected him. That took all of the strength I could muster, but that's just me. Stupid, stupid me, putting others before myself.

Here I am now, attempting to tune out the vicar droning on about how she lost her fight with leukaemia and how she didn't deserve to die. I knew about that already, I mean, twenty-seven is a pretty shit age to die isn't it? What was worse was she didn't know she had it, until a week ago, when she died, three days before the wedding. Staring around me now, I feel warmed in a way, by all the people here, cramped in this small church, I just showed how many people actually cared for her. The church itself is just as dull and lifeless as the bleak November sky, just the plain white walls and clear glass windows, although the mood is even less cheerful, than the building. I know the service is almost done because the vicar has called him up to read the poem, to end the service. I sympathise with him, as he struggles to regain his composure, fighting down the sadness welled inside him inside him. He clears his throat with a small cough, which echoes around the silent church and begins,

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message, She is Dead,

Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

She was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good."

Outside, a small group of her closest friends and family stand around the grave as the coffin is lowered gently inside, each of us is holding a small yellow rose, they were her favourite, and she always thought red ones were over used anyway. The vicar recites a prayer, as the coffin is lowered slowly into the ground, with Lugia's song playing softly in the background. The vicar gestures for the first person to toss their rose. They step forwards, and crouch down, gently placing it on the coffin as they whisper their goodbye. Each person in the semi-circle continues to step forward and pay their respects. As it reaches my turn, my legs carry me shakily over to the foot of the coffin and I crouch down, looking sadly at the eight roses atop the coffin, then the beautiful flower in my hand,

"Goodbye…" I whisper, and then I can feel my throat closing up and my stomach knotting, preventing me from saying anything more. Gently, I throw the rose down and the tears, that have been threatening to escape all day, finally break free and run slowly down my face. It his turn now, and He crouches down and throws the tenth and final rose inside the grave; he lingers there for a while, staring at the silver plaque on the coffin, engraved with her name and the date of her death. He mumbles his last few words, which are inaudible to the others gathered here, and then returns to his place beside me. After each of us has thrown a handful of soil into the grave, we turn and slowly return to our cars. Just as I'm about to open my car, I feel his hand on my shoulder, slowly, I pivot round to face him,

"Thank you," he mumbles. "I want to thank you for your kindness and I…" He trails off, unsure of what to say, I know what to do, now is my only chance. Delving into the pocket of my black duffle coat, I pull out a small white envelope and hand it to him. He stares at it blankly then looks into my eyes,

"Don't read it yet," I find myself mumbling, before I turn and hurriedly climb in the car, before he can get a chance to respond, or even say goodbye. He is still stood there silently, as I pull out of the cemetery, and drive away…

**~**

I often replay that scene of the funeral in my head, as the last time I ever saw him. I now regret giving him the note, the note which has kept him away from me for three years now, after all, that is the only thing that could have. These have been three long, hard years of dwelling on what could have been. The shill, tinny sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, bringing me back into the present. I rush downstairs to answer the door, even though I have no idea who would be visiting me at five o'clock on a Sunday afternoon. Especially since today is Valentine's Day, and I was banking on enjoying an ice-cream and a romantic movie, so hopefully this person at the door isn't going to stay. Not bothering to check through the peephole, I swing the door open and gasp. My friend, Jenny is at the door, I thought she was on her shift tonight. Putting on my cheerful face, despite my mood I greet her,

"What are you doing here?" I didn't mean for it to, but it sounded a little like an accusation, even though I would be glad to have some company. My pleasant demeanour drops, however, when I notice that my friend is not as delighted to see me as I was her. He solemn face tells me she's here as part of her job, but what was a police officer here for?

"I'm so sorry Misty," she mumbles, looking like she about to cry. "But your friend, Ash Ketchum, he… he died in a car crash earlier this evening." I feel my world come crashing down, a rogue tear escapes and trails down my cheek. I can understand her mood now, she knows him too. "Here," she forces two envelopes and a small box in my hand. "This is yours; we believe he was delivering it to you." With that she turned and walked away. I stare blankly at the box for a moment, before I feel a dawn of realisation sweep over me. Slamming the door and leaning against it for support, I let out an anguished howl. Sinking to the floor, I feel hot tears stream down my face. I open the box curiously, what's inside makes me want to cry harder. Inside, was a beautiful diamond ring. He really did love me. He was coming to tell me he loved me. Then why Lord, did he have to die?

**~**

Here I am, in Pallet Town cemetery once more. It's sunny today, though the air is cold. A light breeze chases the dead leaves across the ground. Staring sadly at the stone before me and I ask myself the question I often ask myself, why did he have to die? I come here a lot, just to relive the moments we shared and of course, to think about what could have been. After all, it was almost a reality, but one fateful car crash took that away. So, I am left to think about what could have been.

**~**

A/N: I sad ending, I know most people hate that, put tell me honestly, was it good? Is it better than my chapter fic? If so I may write a few more one-shots (cheerful ones though) and continue with my chapter fic, but focus on it less. But please dear readers do tell. I'm not begging though.

Princess Tiger


End file.
